Angles
by Firevega21
Summary: In which Trey lies, Ryan angsts, and Seth is really, really confused. Slash, TreySeth, RyanSeth.
1. Enmity

Disclaimer: Me? Own _The OC_?

Author's Notes: Wow. I'm jumping on the Trey/Seth train like there's no tomorrow.

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**Chapter One: Enmity**

"Are you having sex with Seth?"

"Who, me? Well…hold on just a minute." Trey leans back in his hair and tilts his head, looking underneath the countertop. He searches furiously, swaying back and forth in his chair, furrowing his brow, straining his eyes to see. "Nope," he answers nonchalantly, returning his attention back to his bagel and morning paper.

Ryan continues glaring at his brother until he finally turns around.

"Oh, did you mean _now_?" Trey questions, appearing genuinely confused.

Ryan takes a little breath before adjusting his seat in his chair, turning so he can face Trey. "What do you think?" he asks, voice jagged with anger and annoyance.

It was the kind of tone in Ryan's voice that Trey had gotten used to back in Chino. It was this tone that had always tipped him off to when Ryan was _really _pissed. Not just sort of pissed, not just moderately pissed, but _insanely _pissed. Back then, Trey just ignored it and did what he wanted anyway. And if Trey had really learned anything from his time in jail, he would have learned that now was the time to do the opposite of whatever he did back in Chino.

But Trey hadn't really learned anything from his time in jail, so he keeps on ignoring Ryan.

"No, Ryan, I'm not having sex with Seth."

"Bull shit."

"You shouldn't curse," Trey informs his little brother as he hops down from his chair, picking up his plate. "It's not polite."

"You shouldn't lie, either," Ryan retorts. "It's a sin."

Trey almost blanches, but doesn't. Trey almost gives into the urge to turn around and slam Ryan up against a wall and ask him what the hell _he _knows about sins, but doesn't. Instead he just walks over to the trash can and drops in the rest of his bagel, then heads over to the sink and starts rinsing off his dish.

Trey knows about sin. He knows about politeness, too.

And he's not going to discuss either with his little bother.

Apparently, though, Ryan has other ideas, because he too pushes off of the chair and walks over to where Trey stands. His facial expression is determined and Trey nearly sighs in exasperation, because he's seen that look so many times he can practically feel it.

Instead of turning to talk to him, Trey just concentrates on washing his dish. Because that's the way you learn to live once you've been in prison for eighteen months. You live day by day, action by action, breath by breath, and you can't concentrate on anything else but that or you'll have your jello stolen and some guy will start humping you in the shower.

Not that any of that really applies to washing dishes in the middle of a posh almost-mansion in Orange Country.

When he's finished rinsing, he picks up a paper towel and dries the plate. He continues ignoring Ryan's death glare, because, seriously, Trey _taught _him that glare. It doesn't faze him.

Not much does. Not anymore.

Trey puts the plate in the dish drainer when he's finished and then turns to see that Ryan has schooled his features into an expressionless, stoic kind of look. And again, that's just something else he picked up from Trey.

"Okay, seriously," Trey tells him. "I'm not having sex, or any kind of relations, with Seth."

Ryan seems to process the information, because his features change. First into denial, and yeah, Trey's a little hurt to see that his brother's first reaction is to strongly distrust whatever he says. Then it's understanding, and now Trey's feeling a little relieved. And, finally, there it is. Belief. Because no matter what Trey does, he's still Ryan's big brother, and the naive kid who watched Power Rangers and played Snoopy in the Christmas pageant wants nothing more than to be able to believe his big brother.

It's kind of sad, really, Trey thinks. He's never given Ryan a reason to trust him.

He's probably never going to, and he doesn't feel a damn bit of guilt for it.

"Really?"

Trey gives Ryan this look, the one that says stop being a fucking moron. Ryan, picking up more from Trey, ignores it.

"_Really_," Trey assures him. "You know, what would even give you that idea?"

Ryan shrugs, turns so he can lean his back against the counter. "I don't…know," he says, lamely.

Trey raises an eyebrow. "You don't _know_?" he repeats. "So, what, you just assume that being in prison made me a fag, or something?"

"No-" Ryan begins.

Trey cuts him off. "Well then why else would you think that I'm fucking your little friend?" he asks, sounding more curious than angry. "Did you think that once I stepped out of jail and saw some Newport virgin ass I would just jump on him, or something? Is that what you think of me?" Which would, of course, be a very correct assumption. But Trey isn't going to tell Ryan that. And maybe if he makes Ryan feel awkward and guilty enough, Ryan won't figure it out.

"No," Ryan says, more urgent now. "Christ, Trey, no. That's not… I wasn't thinking…" He sighs, letting his head fall a bit. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"Then why would you ask me something like that, man?"

That's it. Play the hurt brother. Play the part of someone who knows guilt and rejection. Ryan will fall for it, just like Ryan always does, and Trey will let him, just like Trey always does.

"I…" Ryan pauses, hesitant, unsure of what to say. Unsure of what could possibly make up for accusing your brother of sleeping with your best friend. "It's stupid."

Trey watches Ryan for a moment, wondering if he should push this or let it go now. He should probably drop it. Probably just slap Ryan on the shoulder and send him back to the pool house, let Ryan think that everything is as it should be and maybe things will turn out all right this time. But the compulsive need to hurt everyone around him presses at back of his mind, and he realizes that he's a horrible person, and he's most likely going to burn in hell just for this. The words come out though, and he's moving in front of Ryan, and his face is forming a look of genuine concern, and he just.can't.stop.

"What's stupid, Ry?" he asks smoothly.

Trey didn't realize what a total bastard he was until he saw the look of tentativeness pass over Ryan's face.

And, still, he really can't bring himself to care.

He should probably be worried about that.

"It's just…" Ryan starts, then shakes his head. "You were, I don't know."

"What?"

"When I went over to yours the other day, there was a copy of _Legion_ on your bedroom table. You had this stack of _Deathcab _cds in your truck. And you, well yesterday at breakfast I could have swore that you…babbled."

Trey just blinks at him.

"… Right."

Ryan sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I told you, stupid," he says. "It was just little things. Stuff people don't pick up unless they've known Seth for a while."

"And since I've only known Seth for a few weeks, you automatically assumed I was sleeping with him." Trey's voice is unbelieving. "Of course. I can't believe I didn't come to that conclusion."

Ryan hesitates for just a second before saying, "Sarcasm. You weren't sarcastic in Chino."

And Trey doesn't miss the way Ryan calls it Chino and not home. He gets that this is Ryan's home now. This palace. These people.

"Picked it up in prison," Trey replies, not to quickly.

It's an easy lie, just like everything is now.

Because it's so obvious that he got the comic and the cds and the sarcasm from Seth. Almost painfully so. Really, where else would Trey have gotten it? Where else, if not from hours just lying bed after another round of quick fucking, or slow fucking, or just plain fucking, with Seth.

"Summer and Seth have been having some problems lately, but Seth hasn't burst into the pool house at one in the morning because he can't sleep, talking about those problems. In fact, he's been acting like everything is fine. Which, it's obviously not."

"And this would lead to sex with Trey…?"

"I just thought if Seth didn't talk to me, I mean…" Ryan trails off, and Trey clenches his jaw a little.

Yeah. Right. Because if Seth didn't have one Atwood to go to, he could just run off to the other. Substitution and all. Seth just thinks that Trey is another older, more rugged version of Ryan. Seth doesn't actually see Trey for his own person. No, no, Seth just sees Trey as another Ryan.

Trey tells himself to let out a breath, because he knows that isn't right. Seth certainly knows that Trey isn't Ryan, and Seth likes it that way. Seth _needs _it that way. Because Seth doesn't need Ryan, whose too afraid and too God damn self righteous to ever do anything for himself. Seth needs Trey, who will never be too afraid or too righteous or too _anything_ to just screw all consequences and do whatever he wants.

"No," Trey says. "He hasn't said anything to me about Summer."

Huh. The first thing he's said tonight that isn't a lie.

Good for him.

Ryan nods. "Oh."

Trey wonders if Ryan is jealous, and the thought seems so ridiculous and so good he almost laughs, because Ryan has _never _been jealous of Trey. It's always been Trey whose envied his little brother, Trey whose wished that he could bring home report cards with all A's, Trey whose wanted to have the girl next door give him those longing looks. But now, the tables have turned. Ryan thinks that Seth is talking to him, Ryan thinks that maybe Seth is sleeping with him, and now Ryan is the one whose jealous and hurt and angry over something he has no control over.

Only, he does. Or, he did, anyway. Because Trey knows that if Ryan hadn't gotten distracted by Marissa Cooper in the very beginning, that if Ryan had went after Seth with the same sincerity and promises as Trey had, that Seth wouldn't have looked at him twice.

Although, Seth does seem to kind of get off on the fact that Trey's sincerity and promises are complete and total bull shit, that Trey isn't trying to be the good guy and do the right thing, that Trey still does drugs and still drinks and will _never _wear a tux to one of those damn Newport parties.

"So if, Seth and I were together," Trey starts, and he watches as Ryan's head snaps up in attention. "It would bother you that much?"

Ryan doesn't even bother trying not to look angry. "What?" Ryan asks.

So Trey repeats his question, even though he knows Ryan's just stalling because he doesn't know how to answer. "If me and Seth were sleeping together, would it upset you so much?"

"What the hell… How can you even _ask _me that?"

"Probably the same way you could _accuse _me of fucking your best friend in the first place."

"Trey, look man…"

"It's your best friend and your brother," Trey says, angered more than he thought he would be by Ryan's obvious protest to this idea. "If we were like, together, wouldn't you be happy for us?"

Ryan stares at him, his jaw clenched. "So you're with him."

Trey shakes his head. "I didn't _say _that," he replies quickly. "I just… Man, Ry, what the hell has gotten into you? First your jumping to all these conclusions about me and Seth and then you're acting like…" And, this is the kicker, because Trey lets his eyes drop to the ground.

"What?" Ryan asks, prodding him. "What? I'm acting like what?"

"Like a fucking jealous bitch!" Trey yells, with just the right amount of anger and hurt to make Ryan jump back just a little.

Trey doesn't understand why he just can't stop manipulating and lying and trying to lash out and make everybody around him _hurt_, but he's never tried to stop before, and now as Ryan gives him this look of sadness, he wonders if maybe, after this, he will. Maybe this time will be the last. Maybe being with Seth and staying with the Cohen's and living in Newport will make him a better person, a person who doesn't try to destroy anyone or anything around him.

Of course, if he was a better person, then he wouldn't get to do coke or drink vodka or have all this sex with Seth, and what fun would that be?

"_What_?"

Trey sighs and shakes his head. "You heard me, Ry. You're acting like a jealous ex-girlfriend. I mean, you start jumping to these conclusions, just assuming that I-that I what? That I seduced Seth? And now that we're having sex, he's just stopped talking to you because he can't get enough of me? That now he won't follow you around, being your little side kick anymore, because he's with me?"

"No-"

"Really?" Trey says, and he thinks he's having a little bit too much fun stringing Ryan along like this. "Because that's the way your acting."

"I'm not…_jealous_."

"Could have fooled me."

"Seth isn't like us, Trey," Ryan tells him, sighing, sounding almost desperate. "He's…fragile."

And Trey wants to say, like hell Seth is fucking fragile. Seth wasn't fragile last week when Trey handcuffed him to the head board and played a little cops and robbers with him. And Seth wasn't the _least _bit fragile the other day when Trey nearly bent him over back wards fucking him on the kitchen table. And there were no traces of frailty when Trey wrapped his hands around his neck and gave him bruises while Seth gave him a blow job in the back of the _Crab Shack._

But Trey doesn't say any of these things. He just remembers them, in full Technicolor detail, and wonders where Seth is now, and if Ryan would notice if he hauled Seth down here and started fucking him on the table again.

That was fun.

The splinters were a bitch, though, but it was worth it to see Seth in that many positions. Trey had been meaning to ask him how he-

"Seth wouldn't understand your actions and reactions to things," Ryan continues explaining, drawing Trey back to the here and now. "And he… He gets hurt, really easy."

Trey nods. "So, you think I would hurt him?"

"Why are we even having this conversation?" Ryan wonders aloud.

Shrugging his shoulders, Trey merely answers, "Hey man, you brought it up."

"Don't, Trey," he says softly. "You don't understand Seth. He's had it rough. Not Chino rough, but rough enough."

"So your saying…Seth is too good for me?"

And this is the part where Trey fully expects Ryan to back down. To turn around and just say forget it before heading out to the pool house and pretending this conversation ever happened.

"Yes."

And it's the most honest, smooth, easy thing that Ryan has ever said to Trey. It hurts a little, more than it should, because Trey has known that from the first time he kissed Seth. But he hasn't ever heard anyone say it out loud.

He guesses things are just different when their said out loud.

Ryan looks down, and Trey is surprised to see, to realize, that Ryan isn't going to deny anything. Words and feelings that Ryan has probably pushed away and protested since the second he stepped into this house sound so weightless and easy, and Trey wonders if maybe Newport has been a little bit good for his baby brother.

"We're from Chino, Trey. We grew up in dirty trailers with our mom's drunk boyfriends kicking our asses every other day. The only relationships we understand are abusive and dysfunctional, and he's already got enough of both of those with Summer, who he's completely, obsessively in love with. We would hurt him more than he can afford and he wouldn't forgive that, and…and… Would you ever want to give what you have with Seth up for a little bit of good, even though you know it would turn out to…"

Trey doesn't want to listen to Ryan list all the things that he already knows. He doesn't want to just stand here and pretend to be hurt or nonchalant or keep lying to Ryan. He doesn't want to let Ryan keep going on and on, because the only thing it's doing is pushing Ryan deeper into that mind set of, no, their not good enough for Seth and, no, they could never have him.

Trey wants to tell Ryan that Seth doesn't care about trailers or the scar on his knee that he got from AJ or how Trey doesn't really care about anything except himself. Which is actually kind of pathetic, because most days, Trey can't even bring himself to do that.

So Trey just shakes his head and decides it's time to end this. It's not fun manipulating or lying to Ryan anymore. It's not easy telling Ryan that he's not sleeping with Seth and pretending like he could care if Ryan was hurt.

"_I _don't have anything with Seth, Ry," he says, and Ryan trails off very, very quickly. "I've only known him for a little while. We're just…getting to be friends, now." Yeah. Friends is a safe lie.

Ryan stops talking and closes his eyes, just for a second, trying to re-evaluate how he got here, standing in the middle of the kitchen, telling his brother why they will never be good enough for someone he knows neither of them can have.

Trey watches Ryan and when his eyes open, fresh pain once again caused by one of the only people he's ever really trusted, Trey wonders if maybe he could feel guilty for this. If maybe he could just get Ryan's face, this very look, imprinted into his mind so deep that the next time he was pushing someone, he could remember his little brother and all of the hurt, and be able to stop himself.

Trey decides that later, maybe, if he's not busy, he'll sit down and think about that; about feeling remorse for all these things that he's done.

"Just, don't, Trey," Ryan says. Trey wonders if Ryan thinks that if he says it enough, if he puts enough emotion, if he just explains how much it would twist things between them, that the words might actually mean something. "Even if you and Seth never become friends, don't. It's selfish and it's…" He shakes his head and clenches his jaw. "I love you, Trey. You're my brother. For almost sixteen years you were the only person I could count on. You were stupid and cruel, and you probably still are, a little bit, but I could forgive you for it then." There's a pause as Ryan raises his gaze, meets Trey's, and doesn't back down. "I can still forgive you for it. But if you _ever _hurt him, or the Cohen's, or Marissa, or anybody else here that I love, I won't."

"Ry," Trey begins, feeling like he should say something, try to pull Ryan up a little bit. He's pushed and broke his brother down more times than he can count, but their conversation's have never been this honest, this close to home, this dangerous.

Besides, if he makes Ryan think that he wants to try to get some semblance of a brotherly relationships back, the more it will hurt when he's get caught.

At this thought, Trey gets the urge to smirk, and sincerely can't wait to see the look on Ryan's face. He realizes that even trying to feel guilty is going to be a complete waste of time; time he could be spending lighting up and making out with Seth.

"If you hurt him," Ryan says, voice dark and angry, "then I don't think I can be your brother anymore, Trey."

And, wow, Trey never realized how much of a dick he was or how much he really did care about Ryan until that sentence.

Trey doesn't say anything, doesn't try to stop Ryan when he turns around and walks back to the pool house, because he doesn't know how much more he can take of all this honesty. It's always been fun – in a really, really messed up way – to hurt Ryan, because Ryan never showed his feelings or let out his anger or tried to get back at Trey.

But that, right there, with Ryan telling him he couldn't forgive him, couldn't be his _brother_that wasn't fun, messed up or not.

That was real.

Trey doesn't know if he's ever had anything real with Ryan. It's always been him trying to get at him, yank him around, and Ryan believing and forgiving and holding it all in. That's the way it's always been, with everyone.

No, not everyone.

Not Seth.

Because when Trey lies to Seth, Seth will just smile at him and kiss him. Trey knows Seth realizes that he's lying. Trey knows that Seth doesn't really give a damn. This whole thing between them means that Seth has an outlet to just be, without having to care or worry or feel guilty for stupid things like making Trey bleed or giving Trey bruises. Seth gets that Trey is a horrible person, that Trey doesn't care about anything, that Trey is completely lost and has no intention of ever getting his life together.

And Seth doesn't care.

Because fucking doesn't have anything to do with salvation or love or good. Not the way Trey does it, and not the way Seth wants it to be. All fucking has are moans and mumbled names and a distraction from the pain. That's what they both want, that's what they both need, and that's what they both give each other.

Trey wonders if that's how it would have been between Ryan and Seth. If maybe Seth would have finally gotten Ryan to just give in and stop trying to be so…so damn Ryan. Maybe Ryan would have gotten Seth to understand soft touches and smiles instead of being so dependent on pain and roughness.

But then, well, Trey realizes he's wondering about his brother's sex life with Seth, and that's kind of weird, so he stops.

Instead, he thinks about what Ryan said. About not being able to be his brother.

Trey contemplates it, wonders how much Ryan has changed and how much Seth really means to his brother, before he realizes that he's really, really angry.

It's one thing to call Newport, this place, Ryan's home. It's one thing to think about Chino as the past, a past Ryan's never going to go back to. It's one thing to smile at Kirsten like she's really Ryan's mother or play video games with Sandy like he's the father Ryan's never had.

But thinking that Ryan could just _not be _Trey's brother is completely different.

Their family. Their blood. Ryan shouldn't be able to turn his back on that, even if he does have a pool house and a gorgeous girlfriend and a different tux for every night of the week.

Trey clenches his fist and wonders if he's really angry that Ryan thinks he can forget about him, or if Ryan has the opportunity to forget about him.

He pops his neck and thinks, if he weren't him, if he were Ryan or Seth or anyone really, he would want to forget about him.

Trey decides that he's not going to push Ryan anymore, not about Seth, anyway, because that was way too much honesty, way too much recognition of the things that lie between them.

He turns to his side, rolling his shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension he's gotten built up. His gaze strays towards the flight of stairs, the ones that lead up to Seth's room, and Trey wonders if he should go home and leave it alone, or go upstairs. He wants to go home. He wants to feel sorry for himself and drink it all away. He wants to swallow some pills and go to sleep for the next eight hours and be way too dazed when he wakes up to remember this whole non-fight with Ryan.

But right now, he wants Seth more.

So he trudges towards the stairs. Before reaching the first one, he glances back at the sliding doors, wondering if Ryan is standing out there, watching him, waiting for him to screw up. Then he asks himself if he really cares if Ryan catches him or not. He thinks about it, just for a second, then he turns and heads up the stairs.

Trey reaches the top of the stairs faster than he thought he would. He walks towards Seth's door, stalking to the room with a kind of careless grace that he was keenly aware of. He stops outside the door and puts his ear to the wood, listening for anything, some type of movement inside. When he doesn't hear any, he figures that Seth must still be asleep.

He pushes the door open, steps inside, and sees that Seth isn't anywhere in the room.

Disappointment and frustration flood through him but he keeps his composure, even if there's no around to see him break it. He wanted Seth to be here. He wanted a chance to just forget about Ryan and his non-existent morals and just _touch _someone. And the only someone worth actually touching isn't even here.

Trey knows that he could always go find Jess. Some other random girl, some other random boy, because a body is a body and it's never mattered before what name or face is attached.

But right now, he doesn't want to deal with Jess. He doesn't want to put up with her game, what ever the hell her motives are, and he doesn't want to spin another web of lies to get someone to follow him home right now. He wants the simplicity and understanding and twisted comfort that is Seth's skin and Seth's kiss.

He's ready to turn around and head back to his place, probably just watch some TV or take a shower and go to sleep, anything to distract him from the guilt he's not feeling and knows he should be, when Seth steps out of the bathroom with a loosely tied, fluffy blue robe.

It doesn't take two seconds before Seth looks up and sees Trey standing in his doorway, and it doesn't take five seconds before a little red is on his cheeks and he's giving that awkward wave he does when he's nervous or surprised or just not quite sure what to do. Trey doesn't know whether to be amused by the fact that Seth is blushing, or annoyed, because it's not like Trey hasn't seen him naked before.

"Hey, dude," Seth says, letting his hand drop to his side.

"Hey," Trey echoes.

Trey thinks that maybe his just showing up in Seth's room is somehow breaking the rules that were never set, and Seth is going to feel uncomfortable, or ask him to leave. For a second, he wishes that this morning, he would have just kept eating his cereal and ignored Ryan's questions, he wishes that he wouldn't have come up to Seth's room expecting the boy to make him forget that he was a bastard and make him feel like he was caring about something for once.

But of course, Seth isn't uncomfortable, and he's not going to ask Trey to leave, because if he was, then he wouldn't be walking towards Trey.

"Hey," Seth says, more softly than the first, when he reaches Trey and slips his arms around Trey's neck.

Trey wraps his arms around Seth's waist, pulling him forward, feeling the urge to smile a little as he runs his fingertips over the fabric of the robe. "Hey," Trey also repeats in a whisper. "You know, that's funny."

Seth pulls back and looks up at Trey, curiosity sparkling at the edges of his eyes. "What's funny?" he asks. Before Trey can answer, there is an indignant look passing over Seth's face, and he begins to speak. "Wait…are you disusing The Robe?"

"The Robe?"

"Yes, Trey, The Robe," Seth answers, snappily.

Trey shakes his head. "No. It's just…"

"What?" Seth questions, tilting his head to the side.

"I was just thinking about how we've never done it in the shower." And as Trey says this, he makes sure to drag his gaze up and down Seth's body, gaze lingering on the smooth planes of his chest, the few drips of water still rolling down the skin.

Seth grins. "_Yet_," he adds cheekily.

Trey smiles back. "I was just thinking we should remedy that."

"Totally," Seth agrees. "So totally."

Trey feels at ease for the first time today when Seth slides his hands up Trey's chest, back around his neck, and kisses him. Trey feels the tension drain out of him when Seth pushes himself up so he can deepen the kiss. Trey really doesn't think that there's anything more stress relieving than just _kissing _Seth, feeling the warmth and the comfort and tasting someone that he knows will never be kissed like this again. Well, other than maybe touching Seth, or blowing Seth, or fucking Seth, or getting touched by Seth, or getting blown by Seth.

So it's really just Seth, in general, that relieves the stress, the tension, all the bad vibes and feelings Trey picks up along the way towards this boy.

His boy.

Trey starts walking them towards the bathroom, because he wasn't joking when he said they should try sex in the shower. Trey would never joke about something as serious as sex in the shower, especially where Seth is involved. He can already feel the hot water pounding down onto both of them, his mouth and the heat making Seth flush, the sound of rushing water on the tile drowning out whimpers and screams. He wonders how Seth will taste with water clinging to his skin, if it will linger on his tongue like it usually does.

Seth tangles his hands into Trey's hair and yanks backwards, and Trey lets him. Lets him because he knows that this is how Seth wants it to be. Trey's touch didn't hurt or violate him, make him want bruises and blisters and abandon. No, this is the way Seth has always needed it, and Trey's the only one whose selfish enough to let him have it.

This is why Seth doesn't mistake him for Ryan, Trey reminds himself.

Trey lowers his mouth back down to Seth's, because right now, he just needs to feel warm lips and teeth. Seth sucks Trey's lip into his mouth and bites down, hard, and Trey groans, because he knows Seth won't let go until there's blood.

Seth breaks the tender skin and tugs at Trey's hair, trying to get him to deepen the kiss, make it harsher, make it hurt.

And God, sometimes Trey thinks that he needs this just as much as Seth.

"Missed…you," Seth pants when Trey moves to start biting – not nibbling, because there's no nibbling between Trey and Seth – down on his ear lobe.

Trey grins against his ear. "The last time you saw me was about –" he glances at the clock "thirteen hours ago."

"Missed _this_," Seth says, and whimpers a little when he starts pushing his hips against Trey's.

Yeah, Trey thinks. Trey missed this, too, because despite what some people think, thirteen hours is like fucking torture when he knows he's got Seth waiting right here.

"Come on," Trey murmurs, mouthing warm, sloppy kisses across Seth's jaw.

Seth grips Trey's shoulders, hard, making sure there isn't an inch of space between them. Trey presses back, and his hands slide down, cupping Seth's ass through the fluffy blue fabric. Seth pushes against Trey's hands, still trying to keep their bodies pressed together.

Seth dips his hand down and starts kissing and biting any skin he can find. He murmurs inaudible things and moans and whimpers and Trey isn't sure if he can make it to the shower.

Pulling back, Trey puts his forehead against Seth's, waiting until the other boys eyes open. They hold each other's gaze, and Trey is the first to speak. "Come on," he says again, almost breathless.

"You weren't messing around about the shower, were you?" Seth asks, an almost drunken smile on his lips.

Trey smiles and shakes his head. "Fuck no."

"Yay," Seth whispers before pressing his lips against Trey's again.

Double yay, Trey thinks, and slides his hand underneath Seth's robe. He feels the water slicked, kiss heated skin, and starts rubbing Seth's hip bone.

"Trey," Seth says, bucking forward. "I need to… We gotta…"

"Yeah, I know," Trey says, sliding his hand back and forth, feeling like he's touching anywhere and everywhere all at once.

Seth shakes his head. "No, no," he murmurs, pulling back. "We need to…talk."

_Fuck no_.

Trey doesn't want to talk. Trey wants to drag Seth to the shower and have insanely kinky sex.

Trey doesn't want to get into another honest conversation.

"That came out sounding bad," Seth says, reaching up to stroke Trey's neck.

Trey doesn't want to, but he grabs Seth's wrist and pulls it to his chest, and he glares at the boy in front of him. "That's because talking is bad," Trey informs him, his tone even. He pulls Seth forward, tightening his grip on Seth's arm, making sure it's painful and making damn sure that Seth enjoys it. "But touching," he whispers, bringing his hand up to Seth's face, before running his thumb over a red and bruised lower lip, "and feeling," he adds, and slides Seth's hand down right between his legs, "and kissing," he murmurs, leaning forward to brush his lips over Seth's, "are good."

Seth nods his agreement. He takes in a few shallow breaths, trying to get in control of himself. Trey watches, waiting for a moment before he starts moving Seth's hand. Trey groans and Seth closes his eyes, trying to shut out Trey's face and Trey's mouth and remember why they stopped a few seconds ago. Trey knows Seth will eventually remember and stop, but until then, he's just going to keep pressing against Seth's hand.

"_Trey_," Seth says, drawing out his name. "Please..." he pants, eyes opening and closing a few times before he can actually focus on Trey's face. "Two minutes to talk, and then it's all the dirty shower sex that is humanly possible."

Trey seems to consider this for a moment. He knows he could probably just hoist Seth over his shoulder, take him to the shower and _make _him forget whatever he wants to talk about, but then Seth would be offended later and talk about how Trey doesn't respect him. Which they both know is true, but Seth still likes to nag about it, only because Trey has some of the most interesting ways of shutting people up.

"One minute," Trey huffs, releasing Seth's hand and pulling away to sit on the edge of the bed. "And it better fucking be important."

And it better be. Trey needs Seth, needs distraction and hurt and someone who knows who he is, and he needs it _now_.

Seth sighs and walks over to the bed, plopping down right beside Trey. He remains silence for a few moments, making no move to do or say anything. Annoyed, Trey leans back and gives Seth an uninterested look.

"You'd better hurry. You've only got forty five seconds to-"

"So, do you think this would hurt Ryan's feelings?"

Irony is such a fucking bitch.

Trey resists the urge to slap Seth. He knows that Seth isn't bringing it up to deliberately make Trey remember his earlier conversation, the one that led him here, because even though Seth doesn't care that Trey plays at hurting people, Seth doesn't. But that doesn't change the fact that right now, Trey wants to slam someone's head into a wall. Seth is just the nearest victim.

"Um…you know. I was thinking about-"

"What does this have to do with Ryan?" Trey snaps, turning to him.

Seth stops speaking and looks at him, and for a second he looks half afraid that maybe he's actually getting to Trey by bringing up the subject of Ryan. But then, Seth remembers that this is Trey, and even if they are sleeping together, Trey won't think twice about trying to play on his insecurities and avoid any real questions.

"Ryan's my best friend, and you're my best friends brother," Seth says. "Even though that's not how I always see you, you are."

Trey narrows his eyes, but the anger in his eyes is dying down. Because Seth just re-affirmed one of the only reasons Trey is with him.

Seth sees Trey for him; not another Atwood, not Ryan's brother, but Trey.

"You don't care who you hurt," Trey says, trying to keep his voice conversational. "If you did, you wouldn't let me fuck you."

Seth flinches, just a little, and Trey is perversely glad to see that even though Seth prepares himself for the comments, they can still sting.

"I care who I hurt," Seth says, softly, no longer looking at Trey. "I hurt Summer everyday, whether I'm trying to or not. I love her, I do, you know but she…she doesn't love me. Not like…not the way I love her. And I know that being with you, if she found out about it… You know, I don't really know what it would do, but I assume it would be bad," he muses, sounding so young and so guilty, and Trey just wants him to stop. "But she's not going to find out, because she's not paying attention to me, not right now, anyway. And…and I think we broke up. I just didn't get the memo, or something."

"Right. So, you don't care if you mess with your little…Summer, but you care if you hurt Ryan's feelings?"

Seth turns to him, and glares, trying to look angry, when in reality, all he does is make himself look…cuter. Hotter. Much more fuckable than usual.

Or maybe that's just Trey's dick talking.

"Don't," Seth tells him, soft enough to be Seth but strong enough to get Trey to let him talk for a bit. "I love Summer more than anything, and sure, this would…this would hurt her and she would hate me and it would be horrible. But you know, she would survive it. And I don't think that it matters what I do anymore…nothing works for her. But…you're Ryan's brother. He loves you, and he looks up to you. If he finds out that you and me are…like, sleeping together, he's gonna flip. Well, on the inside, because he's Ryan, and he doesn't…"

"Don't you think he'd be happy for us?"

"No," Seth answers honestly, and Trey is so tired of honesty right now. He just wants safe lies, the kind he can get caught playing pretend in. Not this. Not this truthfulness and bravery and feeling. It's too much of something Trey has never had and he doesn't understand what to do with it, except for to push it away. "No, I really don't think he would be. He would be mad at you and he would be mad at me and nothing between you and him and me and him and me and you would be the same again, and I don't want that to happen. Because I…I like having Ryan as my best friend. I like having him as my brother, as the guy I can rely on, as the person I know I'd do anything for. And I…I really, _really_ like having sex with you. A lot. I don't want to stop, being friends with Ryan or the sex with you."

Trey shrugs. "Then don't," he says, as if stating the obvious will solve anything.

Seth stares at him for a moment, then looks back down at the floor. "Ryan… I'm not stupid and I'm not blind and I'm not as innocent or oblivious as everyone thinks I am. I know how you work, and I know how Ryan works, and I know how you guys both feel, about each other and…and me." Seth pauses, and takes in a little breath. "Kind of. I mean, it's weird. It's…it's complicated and it…this shouldn't be so complicated. I don't want it to be. I want to have a friend and I want to have a boyfriend, and I want-"

"Boyfriend?" Trey interrupts.

Trey's never been anybody's boyfriend before.

"You…know what I mean. Person I have sex with…and stuff."

"Good," Trey says. "Because that's all this is. Sex and…stuff. It's not-"

Seth nods. "Yeah, I know."

Maybe Seth sounds disappointed, or maybe it's just wishful thinking on Trey's part.

"I love Ryan," Seth says. "I love him like I love Captain Oats and my dad and really bad Japanese movies. He's the only friend I've ever had and I would do anything to stay with him."

Trey doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say. He could tell Seth that Ryan loves him too, but Seth already knows that Ryan loves him, and it's not in the same category as plastic horses and foreign films.

"And I…love…ish you. Like, like candy, and video games, and _The Valley_."

Trey tilts his head to the side. "I make you hyper…your addicted and…obsessed with me?"

"I'm not obsessed with _The Valley_."

"If you really loved-ish me, then you would let me have sex with you in the shower."

Seth sighs and stands up, turning to Trey, his eyes narrowed and determined. "Look, Trey, I'm just asking you this, okay? For once, can you stop trying to fuck everything up and just be honest!"

Trey doesn't _want _to be honest, because Trey doesn't know _how _anymore.

He doesn't say anything for a very, very long time. He's not hard anymore and he's kind of loosing the overwhelming desire to push Seth up against the tiles and make him cry. He doesn't want to go home and drink and sleep. He just wants…

Fuck. Trey doesn't know what he wants.

Seth's eyes have never left him, and now they remind him of Ryan's earlier: brimmed with tears and hurt, all that he caused.

"Will this hurt him?"

Trey knows the answer, because Ryan told him not thirty minutes ago. Trey knows that right now, it counts. Lying isn't going to solve it, won't smooth things over for now. Telling the truth, just this once, just for Ryan's, for his _brother's_ sake, will prove that he has at least a little bit of a soul.

But he doesn't understand how not to lie.

"No."

Seth looks wary, kind of like a frightened animal, and Trey's answer is the trap that's going to cut off his leg. But it's hidden underneath sweet smelling flowers, and just maybe, if Trey can get through this, he'll be able to survive when the trap finally shuts.

So, Trey sighs and he looks down and he runs his fingers through his hair. Seth knows all his tricks, Seth can tell when he's lying, but he's not going to try any harder with this one. Because even if Seth knows that Trey's not telling the truth, Seth wants to believe that he's not hurting Ryan more than he wants the truth.

"I mean, it will," Trey says. "At first, it would. But then he would understand… Ryan loves you, and he loves me. He wants us to be happy."

Seth looks like he's going to laugh. "We're not happy," he murmurs very quietly, and Trey pretends not to hear him.

"You're his best friend and I'm his brother, and that's what Ryan's gonna focus on."

Seth doesn't believe him, but Seth wants to, and in the end, that's what's going to save Trey.

"You know him, Seth," Trey says. "You know that he…that he would be happy for us."

Ryan wouldn't, of course. Ryan would be crushed. He would disown Trey and he…Well, Trey isn't sure exactly what Ryan might do to Seth, but he knows that it wouldn't be pretty.

But Seth believes it when Trey tells him that Ryan would be okay, because Seth wants to.

"We'll tell him," Seth murmurs, almost to himself. "One of these days we…we will tell him. And he'll be okay with it."

"Yeah," Trey sighs, not even pretending to be telling the truth anymore. "Yeah, it'll all be okay."

Trey doesn't wait for Seth to say anything else, because he knows if he does, it will delay the shower sex at least ten more minutes, and right now, he's not in the mood for delays, or honest conversations, or obsessing over the fact that he may in fact be humanly incapable of feeling guilt. What Trey wants, right now, is Seth, slipping down on hands and knees to the bottom of the shower.

He stands up, pulls Seth against him, and kisses him, hard and fast and brutal, just like it always is. He pulls at the ties on Seth's robes and rakes barely there, blunt fingernails down Seth's abdomen, all the way down, until he stops, right below Seth's navel. Seth pushes forward and kisses Trey, pushing his tongue and teeth and lips against Trey's, and uses his whimpers and quick touches to plead with Trey, to _beg _Trey, to move, to take him to the shower, to touch him, to do anything.

Trey grabs Seth's upper arm and leans up, biting down on the muscle of Seth's shoulder before he growls, "_Shower_. _Now_."

"Can't argue with that," Seth agrees, eyes drifting closed in pleasure as Trey drags him to the bathroom. "You know," Seth whispers. "We've never had sex in the pool, either. Or the pool house. Or the _Imax_. We should definitely, definitely try those places, too."

Seth barely gets the words out before Trey pushes him into the shower, up against the tile, hard enough to leave bruises and make Seth want this that much more. Seth licks his lips and starts pulling at Trey's clothes, pushing the wife beater off his chest, grabbing his belt, dropping to his knees as he pulls down Trey's pants. Trey wraps his hand around Seth's curls, and it's so easy to let his mind go blank when he feels Seth's lips on his thigh, going higher.

Trey groans and pushes Seth off. Seth, unprepared, falls onto his back. Trey reaches down and pulls the robe off of him.

"This," he says, indicating the robe. "makes you look ridiculous."

Seth scowls, but Trey kisses it away, and feels all the anger and non-guilt flooding out of him, into this boy.

Maybe, one day, they will do it in the pool house. Maybe Ryan will walk in and pretend he doesn't see it, go on living like nothing happened. Maybe Trey could feel guilty, then.

But he doubts it.

And that's okay.

Because right now, Trey doesn't care about Ryan or all of his constant need to hurt anyone or his lack of sympathy.

Because right now, with Seth, Trey isn't thinking, Trey isn't lying, and Trey doesn't care about anything at all.


	2. Munificent

Disclaimer: I do not own The OC.

Author's Notes: I wrote this a rather long time ago, but since my computer has been stupid, it's taken me a bit longer than expected to post it. Thank you to those who reviewed for the first chapter, and enjoyed it. Here is the second part. Feedback is greatly, greatly appreciated!

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**Chapter Two: Munificent**

Sometimes, Ryan wishes he was selfish.

Self-centered, egotistic, vain.

The kind of person who didn't know the meaning of guilt, of sympathy. The kind of person who didn't understand self-sacrifice, heroism. The kind of person who didn't hear the soft voice in the very back of their head, steering them away from evil and sin and mistake, towards a path more righteous, more peaceful, more heartfelt.

He wishes that he had fallen into the stereotype, the pattern, of kids from places like he was from; the kids who didn't worry about anything but themselves, the kids that didn't give a second thought about right and wrong, as long as they were taken care of. He wishes that he could have developed a Newport sense of snobbery, like the trust fund kids on every corner; the kids who felt superior, who used their narcissism to give them confidence in taking whatever they thought they deserved.

He wishes that he was cruel, cold, just a little bit heartless. Just so he can know the feeling, the exhilaration, of saying whatever came to his mind, throwing punches left and right whenever he felt the urge, being brutally honest when it opened a wound and lying through the teeth when it twisted the situation to his advantage. He wants to know what it's like to have that feeling of pure ice ruthlessness running through him, of snapping and lashing out at anything and never giving it a second glance.

He wishes that he could just take a breath and _feel_ something, with no strings attached. Watch without being jealous, need without feeling pain, speak without trembling fear, want without the jealousy and the uncertainty and the unnerving desires attacking him in his dreams and nagging in the back of his mind during the day. He doesn't want every emotion he has to be another monster he has to fight. He just wants a moments peace where he can believe something, love someone, without it blowing a million jagged edged pieces back into his heart.

He wishes that he wasn't such a coward, such a pushover. Not on the outside, of course, because on the outside he's Ryan Atwood the hero, the one everybody can turn to, the one everybody can count on to fight for them. But on the inside. Underneath tough, calloused skin and breaking bones, where courage really counts, he's nothing but a scared little boy lost. He can't seem to find a way to reach out for anything he wants, to call upon one ounce of bravery in order to be honest when the time comes.

He doesn't like admitting to having such very lonely, pathetic wishes. Not to anyone, especially not himself. It's not easy looking deep in the recesses of your mind, only to discover that you want nothing more than to give up playing the role that Fate pushed forward and become the things you've always hated, always fought against.

He's always believed that people should do the right thing, no matter what. Do what's best for those around you, put your loved ones first, not to always think about yourself. He's always thought that anyone who just took what they wanted or only watched out for number one was someone he could never understand, never care about or know, and most certainly never be.

But he guesses that somewhere, deep down, he's always wanted these things; these twisted, malignant things. He's always fought so venomously to be right and do what is necessary to be a good man, and maybe the real reason behind his struggle is because he was keeping himself from falling over to that side of people, from being swept up in a world promoting, demanding, you look after yourself, you never give unless your getting, you take and take and take until there's nothing left.

It's easy sometimes, to just pretend that he's not always trying to keep the world in strictly black and white categories, and allow things to fall into the grey for a bit. Allow himself the pleasure of playing make believe, just like when he was younger, when he pretended he had a different family and a different house and a different wardrobe.

But he knows that he couldn't ever really let himself slip beneath the middle ground and wade his way through life, giving and taking in accordance to whatever self-serving whim he had.

He just can't _stop_ wanting to help people, wanting to fix everything that was broken. It's in his nature to want to build things, help them along; not destroy and violate them, not the way he had witnessed everything back in Chino, by his mother, his mother's various boyfriends, his brother, his friends.

Ryan wishes that he was the one kissing Seth in the pool.

Wishes that he was the one Seth can't seem to keep his hands off of, the one who gets to feel Seth warm and loving trapped between himself and the tile, the one who seems to know Seth's taste inside and out.

And he's not.

Wishing isn't going to change that.

But it's not going to stop him from pretending. From closing his eyes, for just one millisecond, allowing his thoughts to turn and shift, slide himself into the situation, let his brain believe that those lips are against his. The moment passes, though, and Seth is murmuring a name that isn't his, and the soft, breathless word, "_Trey_", is enough to shatter the pretense of fantasy and make him feel weighed down and guilty and rejected all over again.

His first instinct is to scream. It's to jump into the water, fully clothed and fully aware, pull his brother off of his best friend, and use Trey's head to start breaking off pool tile. It's to beat Trey senseless, to the point all either of them can see is red. It's to leave Trey just coherent enough to explain how he could do this, how he could be _kissing_ Seth in the fucking _pool_ when he _knew_ Ryan might be watching.

His second instinct is to run. It's to turn around and stumble to the living room, fall on the couch, and bury his head into the pillows, hoping that maybe if he just ignores it and pretends it never happened he won't remember. It's to walk to Marissa's and take her out to the mall, faking his way through pleasant conversation and getting-to-know-you-again touches, use the familiarity and fakeness to make him forget what he's seeing. It's to take a drive, clear his mind, and hit something, and feel something, and do _anything_ to make his memory clear, clean again.

The kid from Chino, the part of him that wants to not be guilty, the side that is sick and is tired of always believing in Trey and giving him second chances, is rallying strongly for the first option. The kid who learned to trust someone, the part of him that wants to be good, the side that is still holding out hope that maybe one day Trey will turn around and be the brother he always promised he would be, is…actually kind of agreeing with the rest of him.

Ryan's jaw clenches, and he wants to say something, say _anything_. He wants to let them know that he's here, that he knows now, but he's too afraid that if he tries to talk, his voice is going to falter, sound heavy and dry and broken, and the only thing he will be able to manage is a choked sound of betrayal and rage before he falls.

So he turns around and walks back inside, trying to be quiet even though he slams the door with as much force as he possibly can.

He walks to the couch and sits down, slowly, because his legs feel numb and it takes him a little bit to realize when he's actually stopped standing.

Breathe.

His eyes drift close, and he clenches his fist, and Ryan doesn't know how to handle this.

Breathe. In.

His eyes open again, and he flexes his fingers, and Ryan doesn't think he'll ever be able to handle this.

Breathe. In. Out.

In. Out.

In.

Trey told him, Trey _assured_ him, that there was nothing going on. Trey stood there, in the kitchen that's not twenty feet away from where he sits, and said he was not sleeping with Seth. Said that he was not with Seth. Said that he wasn't going to be with Seth. Trey said… God, Trey said…

Ryan wants to throw something into a wall when he realizes, Trey says a lot of things.

When Ryan was five, Trey said that if he super glued feathers to his arm, he could fly.

Ryan broke his arm.

When Ryan was ten, Trey said that it didn't matter how hold the steak was, because steak was still steak, even if it was kind of green around the edges, and if Ryan was a real man, it wouldn't matter what color the meat was, because he would eat the damn thing.

Ryan missed school for a month.

When Ryan was sixteen, Trey said that no one would notice if they stole a car and went out for a little joy ride.

Ryan got arrested, and he gained a new home, a new family, and a new life.

He gained Seth.

Seth was a little jittery, a little weird, and his hands were always moving, and at first Ryan thought maybe Seth was tweaking, from lack of caffeine or cocaine, he wasn't sure. Seth was sarcastic and had a humor that was drier than Ryan's throat when he first saw Seth sitting in front of the TV with the most innocent look on his face. Seth was just a little jagged around the edges, not so much broken as cracked in a few places, and he was dependent in a way where he could do everything himself and do anything for Ryan and still make Ryan feel like he was needed. Seth was gorgeous in a way that wasn't like the girls back in Chino or anyone else Ryan had ever seen, because Seth had hair that stuck out in odd angles and plain brown eyes that Ryan was almost painfully used to.

Seth was different.

Seth was what made Newport home.

Ryan is angry and he can't do anything to stop rage and betrayal and jealousy and a thousand different things he always secretly thought he was too good of a person to think and feel from building. Every time he tries to breathe or close his eyes, images are there, pretty little pictures with burning edges of Seth and Trey, words that he repeated to himself over and over so many times he was close to actually believing them are whispering and screaming and banging on the insides of his head, and he can't stop them. One flash of Seth with his mouth open and Trey's tongue shoved much too far down his throat and it's just another line of black smoke that's working it's way around Ryan's throat.

And Ryan knows he's not going to be able to keep this down.

He'll scream and kick and smash his head into a wall and this feeling of something he can only think to describe as _dying_ will still be there.

This anger is malignant, he can feel it, and no matter what he does it will reappear and he'll be burning from the inside out again.

God, their kisses are like acid inside his mouth, bubbling down his throat and clinging to his skin. He can't help feeling like he's dirty, like there's mud and sweat sticking to his cold skin and clothes, like there's blood underneath his fingernails. He wants to swallow some sort of cleaning detergent, bleach away this sick thing crawling in him and take a shower and tear something into so many pieces the bones in his fingers start to show.

And Ryan…he knew this would hurt. He told himself too many times, made himself close his eyes and picture the scene, made himself break a little piece of trust from his insides, just so he could be strong enough. He prepared himself, got himself ready before he first approached Trey about Seth, for the fact that his brother and his best friend might be sleeping together. He told himself how much it would hurt and how much it might destroy him and made himself promise that he would not let it cut him too deeply. He made himself strong and calloused enough to deal with the impact of this explosion.

Apparently, it wasn't enough.

Because he still doesn't have his breathing in complete control and there are so many thoughts going at the speed of light behind his eyes and every single part of him is sore.

Ryan grabs a pillow from the end of the couch and grips it so hard his knuckles turn white because it's the only thing he can think to do. He wants to smash something, hurt someone, see bruises forming somewhere, let someone hold him and tell him everything is going to be okay and believe them because is so _wrong_. 

Trey.

Trey does coke and steals cars and lies to his brother. Trey sleeps with girls who get found floating in a pool and breaks peoples noses into concrete and lets people down as a pass time. Trey is cold and doesn't care and has no conscious or thought process to the way in which he does things.

Trey is a destroyer.

Ryan knows this, because Ryan's lived it. Ryan sat back and watched Trey get weaved in and pushed out and pulled in so many different directions that everyone's head spun, then bounce right back with a cocky grin and ask when he can do _that_ again. Ryan understands the way Trey's mind works, because you can't live with someone like that for so long and no learn to get them.

And that's why Ryan feels so inconceivably stupid.

He's always known Trey as a liar, as someone who will hurt and lash out, as a person who is cruel and unforgiving, and he's always loved him regardless. Because it was the right thing to do. It's right to love one's brother and forgive them and hug hem and believe them, so that's what Ryan did. Ryan took Trey back, time and time again, because Ryan knew it was what he should do.

Even though there were a few fleeting moments when, admittedly, Ryan thought maybe Trey would change like he promised to. There were times when Ryan forgot that it was duty to care about his flesh and blood, and just loved and forgave because a part of him really did believe it when Trey said he would change. Sometimes, when he was up in the middle of the night, starring up at the ceiling, letting his thoughts wander, he would picture Trey driving him to work or taking him for pizza or doing other civil, brotherly things that Ryan has always secretly wished for.

When Trey told Ryan that he was indeed _not_ sleeping with Seth, Ryan had believed him. Not because he knew it was the right thing to do, or because he knew that as a brother he did have obligations, even if Trey didn't follow them, but because Ryan still had this small, semblance of a thing called hope that maybe Trey would turn his life around, that maybe Trey wasn't lying and manipulating for once.

Why hadn't he been able to see it for the flimsily veiled lie it was?

Had Ryan really been so pre-occupied with the compulsive need to do the right thing, be the good son to a mother who would never be there, be the righteous brother to a man – to a boy who thought righteousness was something to be broken down and cut to pieces, that he ignored the obvious and believed Trey? Was his hindsight and common sense being blinded by the white hot, bright pressure to constantly prove, prove, prove his worth and his trust and why he had the right to be there? Could it be that, simply because every cell in his body buzzed with a need to curve his path to the right and never let himself slip on the temptation, he totally missed every screaming sign and blinking arrow that indicated Trey and Seth's involvement, showed so clearly what Trey lamely attempted to hide?

And that's really the only thing Ryan can come up with. Because how else could he have let Trey's manipulations slide past his radar for so long?

He thinks it's easier to just believe he was caught up in a world full of white and good and honesty than to second-guess himself, wonder for a moment if maybe it was the little boy with scraped knees and adoration filled eyes that pushed away reason, that made him believe Trey. He refuses to believe that there is any other emotion fused to his rash decision of idiocy other than a want for self-righteousness.

Because he doesn't want to be as pathetic as he knows Trey thinks he is.

Trey will lie, Trey will play pretend, Trey will tell Ryan that he's brave and strong and smart when on the inside Trey is laughing because he's always the one pulling the puppet strings. To Trey, Ryan is made of fabric of cotton and it's a terribly twisted amusing pass time for Trey to dig his way underneath the stitches and pull until the thread is loose.

Trey sees Ryan as a little boy who wants to be a hero and wants to look up to his big brother, and will do anything to achieve both of those things. Even though the movements to get to the podium and truly love Trey are similar but not quite the same, the paths to both still get tangled and there's no way Ryan can follow a straight line and get to both of them. And Trey knows that, and he depends on it, and Ryan knows that he absolutely can't get enough of the fact that Ryan seems to always want to be able to be a brother more than a hero.

Ryan doesn't want Trey to be right.

Ryan doesn't want to be the one always trying to morph into some sort of human superglue and paste the pieces of dysfunction back together again. He doesn't want to try and fail and try and fail and keep repeating the same vicious, fucked up cycle, the cycle that will never get Trey to see him as a person instead of a plaything, the cycle that will never get Trey to want to be brothers or know loyalty or family ties.

He wants to believe, he wants to feel, that the only reason he has ever tried to be a brother to Trey is because of his need to be honorable, his need to be the good guy. He wants to believe that he only tries to help Trey because it's what his conscious tells him to do.

And that way, Trey is wrong and Ryan is right and good triumphs once again.

Of course, Ryan realizes as he sits on the couch and clenches his jaw and stares at the carpet, none of this matters anymore. It doesn't matter if Ryan wants to be a good person more than he wants to be part of a family, and it doesn't matter if Ryan is right, and it doesn't matter if Ryan is selfish or selfless because Trey is the one who was kissing Seth and Ryan wasn't.

And Ryan just doesn't understand _why_.

Good things are supposed to happen to good people, to those who wait, and Ryan has given up a lot of things and stood in the back of the line for what feels like a few good millennia, and he doesn't have anything other than scars on his heart from unrequited love and marks on his hands from where he tried to re-form a brotherhood that was never there out of dirt and blood.

At this, Ryan sighs and forces his eyes to shut and lets his head loll back onto the couch.

This isn't the reason he does the right thing.

He doesn't soothe Marissa to sleep when he wants nothing more than to just fall into his bed and dream so that he can get a reward. He doesn't help less-than-popular kids with glasses pick up their books in the hallway when he's late for class so that he can get paid back. He doesn't say no to drunk girls and high boys and politely guide them to a place where they'll be much safer when all he wants to do is wrap his arms around them and pretend their someone who they never will be so that he can get good karma in a next life.

He does it because it's just the right thing, and even though sometimes he might wish he's not, he's a good person.

But, well, that really doesn't count for anything anymore, does it?

Saving lives and letting go and giving to protect those around him never got him Seth, so those things never really had purpose.

And, God, Trey is so right in his opinion that Ryan is pathetic.

Doing the right thing, trying to help has gotten him so many things, so many people. All those years of never straying off the sidelines, of never getting high with the rest of the guys, came into full play when he and Trey stole a car and instead of jail he got a pool house and a mother and a father and a Seth. It's given Ryan a feeling of calm and peacefulness for so long. It's given Ryan a way to be able to look in the mirror every morning and every night and not hate what he sees starring back at him.

And somehow, the forever burning image of Trey kissing Seth in the pool makes it all seem little more than scratches on a piece of black paper or specks of white dust on the beach.

The fact that Trey has Seth makes every good thing Ryan has ever done, every good thing that has ever happened to Ryan, somehow evaporate and disappear from the Earth's atmosphere, and Ryan is a little shaken by that.

He hadn't really grasped the concept of 'too far gone' until this.

He hadn't really understood just how deeply his feelings for Seth were now embedded into his personality, into his existence.

Not until he realized that the fact that Seth was kissing Trey could make him ungrateful for an entire life of being able to do good and golden moments.

Ryan really doesn't know what to do with himself at this point.

He's just a sad, lonely boy, whose in love with someone he will never have, who wants to be the best human being he possibly can be, who wants to have a brother he can trust, who has secrets lurking that are vicious and vile and tempting, who has thoughts of being great and being heartless that blue into one until it's hard to tell what the difference is between hero and villain.

And, wow, it's taken nearly fifteen minutes of painstaking brooding to figure out what he could sum up in a short paragraph.

Right now, he just wants to feel better. A little less miserable and pained and burning.

He can't go to the pool house, but there's not anything there that could make Ryan feel a little less like he was being eaten alive. He can't go see Marissa, because she will kiss him and he'll forget to see her and feel only a mouth on his own and he'll think about Trey and Seth and kisses, and that might make his head explode. He can't take a walk or go for a drive because there's no where in this place he can go that could make him feel less rotted.

He wonders if maybe he's just hurting too much inside to move, anyway. He wonders if maybe he broke his pinky he could distract himself long enough to make it down the street without thinking of Trey and Seth.

Pretty soon, his feet are carrying him to the stairs, and he feels laughter bubbling in the back of his throat, which he notes is a sign of insanity.

Ryan hates his feet and thinks about banging them on something with a sharp corner when he opens the door to Seth's room and starts heading for the bed. Seth's room smell nice, like apples and water. Which Ryan thinks is a weird combination, weirder because Seth smells nothing like either an apple or water, but he doesn't question it, because it's comforting.

The simple exercise of breathing in and out the scent of Seth's room is taking away a little bit of the dynamite digging into his brain, and his head is starting to not throb as much as his hands and heart and ankles.

He wants to lay in Seth's bed. He wants to curl up on warm comforters and feel safe, because he knows that Captain Oats is watching him and that this is where Seth sleeps.

But now his common sense is coming back, and he wonders if maybe Seth and Trey have…on Seth's bed, and that would just be _wrong_. Captain Oats didn't deserve to have his eyes plastic eyes scarred by such a sight.

And, God, neither does he.

He shouldn't have to deal with this, just like he shouldn't have had to deal with a mother who drank too much and he shouldn't have had to deal with Theresa leaving Eddie, getting pregnant, just like he shouldn't have had to deal with Marissa's one too many drinks. He shouldn't have to feel like this.

No one should.

No one with blood and bones and a heart should have to watch the person they love giving in to something as twisted and wicked as Trey.

Because it hurts too much, and it brings up too many questions and what if's that will nag and scratch at the ever breaking, ever thinning layer of flesh between his head and heart, until all Ryan can think of is Seth kissing someone else and Trey lying again and, and…

Why did it have to be _him_?

Ryan falls onto Seth's conveniently placed computer chair and thinks that maybe if he uses enough will power, it will all have been a dream.

He closes his eyes and it's Marissa, it's Summer, it's anyone who doesn't spout pop culture references as easily as they breathe and doesn't read _Teen Titans_ obsessively; it's anyone Ryan might be able to live through losing, who Trey went after, who caught Trey's fancy, and who ended up giving in.

Trey would tear Marissa _apart_. He would coax her into trusting him, let her believe he was like Ryan, and he would give up anything he ever touched for her, and she would depend on him. She would let herself relax and try to confide in him. And when he pulled it all out from underneath her, she would be so confused and jaded, she might not be able to pull herself back together.

Ryan would hate himself if he let that happen to Marissa, because Marissa is sweet and good, and just a little girl who never really learned how to deal with pain, but she's learning, and she's trying so hard to keep everything together. And Trey could destroy it with a flick of his wrist if he really wanted to.

Ryan doesn't think about Trey and Summer, because Summer is too smart to be fooled by anything Trey would tell her.

There's a whole town full of gorgeous shattered people here in Newport, and if Trey got loose, he would have a field day slipping inside each and everyone of them. But Ryan doesn't know the rest of those people, and he doesn't want to think about how much self-loathing or anger would build up if Trey got a hold of some poor stranger and royally twisted them.

It wasn't anyone else, though, it was Seth, and Ryan is going to have to figure out a way to deal with that.

But he just doesn't get it.

He knows Seth and Summer are having problems, but how do a few arguments over a comic book turn into a torrent affair with Trey? Why would Seth risk everything he had with Summer, the girl he's loved since he was ten-years-old, risk the friendship he had with Ryan, the only real friend Seth's ever really had, to have sex with Trey?

It doesn't make sense. Not at all. Ryan knows it has to be deeper than that, there just has to be more than meaningless, casual sex to make Seth risk so much, but he just can't make his mind fit around it, and he doesn't want to.

Or maybe, maybe it really is that simple, and Ryan is just the one making it complicated.

Maybe Seth has had to deal with too many things that held the weight of the world. Every move he made with Summer seemed like life or death, every conversation he had with Ryan was somehow laced with angst and past pains that scarred and never went away, every moment with his mother and father was estranged and maybe Seth just wanted something that didn't mean anything. Maybe Seth just needed something that was flippant and careless and fun, something that Seth could just not care about.

But, no, Ryan tells himself, because Seth might be a little self-centered sometimes but he's not that selfish. He can't be, or else he's not really the person that Ryan knows so well.

And doesn't Ryan know Seth?

Ryan feels his throat constricting because he's presented with the fact that he doesn't know anything.

Ryan Atwood does not know a damn thing.

Not about Seth, not about Trey, not about himself or anything that's crumbling down around him.

Seth could be completely different. Seth could be a trillion shades darker than the white light Ryan's always seen him in and Ryan doesn't even know it. Seth could be more absorbed in his own happiness than Ryan ever realized. Seth could be one of these Orange County snobs, one of these self-serving kids from Chino, who only accepted Ryan because there was nothing better to do.

Which is really, really sad, because even as Ryan thinks this, tries to bend Seth into a mold of someone Ryan didn't think Seth could ever be, Ryan still can't picture himself not loving Seth, not wanting Seth, not needing Seth by his side and in his life.

Unconditional love, Ryan thinks bitterly to himself and he doesn't want to be bitter about this, but it's not like he can stop himself. Unconditional love is the harshest, most pure, most pathetic kind of feeling Ryan can think of. Because unconditional love means that someone can cut off your ear and stab you in the back and French kiss your brother right in front of you and tell you that they aren't sleeping with your best friend with their fingers crossed and you are still willing to fucking die for them because you love them that much. And Ryan must be consumed with this feeling, because he can still feel undeniable hope and undiminished affection beneath the rage and hurt and betrayal.

Ryan slides of the chair and lays down on the floor, not really sure what he's doing but lacking the motivation to fight it. He curls on his side and pulls his knees to his chest and breathes in shakily. It occurs to him that he can smell wood and chemicals, the scent of Trey's cruelty and lies, coating and mixing in with the smell of Seth's room. He thinks he's going to throw up so he wraps his arms around his stomach and tries to stop his stomach from turning. He thinks of things that are calm and safe and steady, like the sky and the sand and the snow. He feels less like throwing up but more like crying, so he bites his lip and closes his eyes and tells himself to go to sleep. In the back of his mind, he starts a soothing beat, hymns and lullabies and soft tunes, trying to lull himself to sleep.

He ends up in a place in between, not sleeping and not awake, and he's glad for this middle ground. If he was awake he would be hurting, and if he was asleep he would probably be dreaming about hurting and wake up even worse. So he lies there, his neck craned uncomfortably and his legs starting to get tingly, being totally blank and liking the feeling of not having to feel.

Sooner or later, Ryan really isn't sure which of the two it is, the door is opening and he realizes that the time for laying on the floor and pretending the world doesn't exist is over. He knows his duties as a decent person and he knows he can't just slink out of the room without giving Seth an explanation. So he turns over on his back and looks up to see Seth shutting the door.

And it's so _hard_.

Because Seth's back is a bit red and there are little finger prints that are probably going to turn a nifty color of purple in a few days on his shoulders and it's Seth, and Ryan can't be angry at him but he doesn't know what else to feel.

When Ryan confronted Trey, it was easy, because there's never been anything that isn't out in the open between them. When Ryan asked Trey if he was having sex with Seth, it was easy, because he knew Trey would answer him.

"Dude," Seth says when he sees Ryan lying there. "Um, is there a reason you're on my floor?"

'Yes', Ryan wants to say, but instead he just pushes himself up into a sitting position.

Seth blinks at Ryan's lack of response and moves towards him. He plops on the floor in front of Ryan, and his face is a perfect picture of curiosity. It's so familiar that Ryan has to look down, because he's afraid if he doesn't he'll break down.

"Ryan?" Seth questions again. "Are you all right?"

"M'fine," Ryan answers lamely.

Seth raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head. "Uh-huh. Yeah, of course you are. Because you _always_ lie on my floor curled up into the fetal position when you're fine. In fact, you being on my floor is the epitome of being fine. Seriously, if you lie down again, I can take a picture, then we'll get someone whose good with graphics to blow it up, and you passed out on my carpet will become the new poster for being fine."

'Maybe you can go make out with Trey and we can take a picture and you can be the new poster for betrayal,' Ryan thinks, but doesn't say it, because it will cause too much pain in this little room and there isn't enough space to hold all the tears they can't shed.

"I was tired," Ryan explains, feeling detached.

Seth picks up his hand and points to the bed. "See, that's why they made these things. Their called beds. People sleep on them when their tired. And it's much more comfortable than the floor." He pulls up the comforter and the sheet, and tugs at the remaining cover. When it's loose, he pulls out the mattress and pokes it. "See, mattresses are soft. And they've got foamy stuff."

"Foam is…foam is good," Ryan agrees. He's feeling breathless again, and his heart is beating too fast, and he thinks it might be dangerous, because he feels like the blood and oxygen is being pumped far too slow through his body to keep up.

"Foam is good like paper cuts are painful, dude."

"And you're sleeping with Trey."

There.

He did it.

Ryan finally broke something, like a part of him has always wanted to, but he doesn't feel superior or disaffected or justified, and he wants to take it back. He wants to breathe in so deep he takes back five little words that made the quiet, easy lie they'd all fallen into shatter.

But he can't, and he wants to apologize, and it wasn't his fault because he wasn't thinking about what he was saying and the words just came out and he wasn't planning on bringing it all out in the open so stupidly.

Seth gets this look that tells Ryan he's not even going to try and deny it.

"Well," Seth says, and Ryan can tell that it's just as difficult for him to try to breathe. "I guess you could… Well, yeah. If that's…" Ryan can tell that Seth is trying to think of something sarcastic and witty and gentle to say, but he's not coming up with anything and Ryan is glad. Ryan is glad because if Seth says something sarcastic and witty and gentle then he might cry, and he might punch Seth in the jaw, and he might try to kiss him, and he might just die. Ryan can't handle sarcastic and witty and gentle and he can't handle Seth, and he needs to leave, _now_.

Ryan gets up and turns to his side, doing an awkward shuffle/walk thing to try and get to the door without stepping on Seth. He jerks his arm upwards so quickly he thinks he may have dislocated his shoulder when Seth reaches for his hand, but Seth's fingertips are gentle and warm, and Ryan's brain skips for a second and he forgets that those fingertips were tracing there way over Trey's back, forgets just long enough for his body to stop moving while Seth scrambles up to his feet.

"No," Seth says, his voice is dry and something Ryan doesn't want to place, because it would make it easy if this could be cold and harsh, if Ryan could just leave and if Seth could pretend like he didn't care. "Please, Ryan, you can't – This just can't happen like this."

Ryan turns, and his jaw is clenched and his nails are digging so hard into his skin he thinks his palms may go numb, and he asks, in the calmest voice he can achieve, "Then how the hell is this supposed to happen?"

Seth is dumbstruck, because he obviously wasn't expecting the response. Slack jawed and totally lost, he stands there and watches Ryan with an expression that is much too young to be dealing with this, and Ryan feels guilty for being angry. Then, Ryan remembers, remembers that they are here because Seth is _sleeping_ with Trey, and his guilt is effectively crossed out with more anger.

"I don't…I don't know," Seth answers after an eternity of hesitation. "We were going to…like, because…"

Ryan shakes his head, and he needs Seth to stop. "What, you were going to what? Tell me? Sit me down at the kitchen table so you and Trey can give me a little talk about how…" He trails off, because Ryan realizes there isn't enough oxygen for him to keep going on like this. Breathing in so much to keep himself from hurting something and never letting it out.

Seth looks down at his shoes, stares at the carpet, lets his shoulders slump and Ryan knows that even though Seth doesn't have anything to say or do right now, Seth isn't going to let him leave.

Ryan leans against the door, resting his weight on the wooden frame, and rubs his hand over his eyes. 'Why, why, why in the hell?' is the mantra being repeated in his mind, but he can't say it. Can't bring himself to make this anymore real than it already is.

"Ryan?" Seth asks delicately, as if he's afraid of speaking to loud, as if he's afraid that the sound waves of his own breaking voice are going to make little pieces of Ryan's heart crash in.

Ryan can't look at him. Can't look at that face. Because if he looks up at Seth, then he'll want to forgive him. He'll want to, and he won't be able to find it in him, and he'll hurt more.

And Ryan doesn't think that would be healthy.

"He is…he was my brother," Ryan murmurs, almost to himself, almost as an afterthought. "My brother."

Seth is approaching Ryan now, and one hand is stretched out, shaking, unsure whether it should try to ease Ryan or rest on his shoulder or go back to Seth's side. Seth is a few feet away, and he wants to say something, anything, find a magic word that will make everything okay again. But he fails, because when he opens his mouth nothing comes out, and he has to close his eyes. Hesitantly, he starts reaching forward, his hand trembling even more but headed straight for Ryan's shoulder.

As soon as Ryan sees the hand at out of the corner of his eye, he just wants to reach out and snap Seth's wrist between his fingertips. Instead, he whips it away in a fast, furious motion, before snapping his gaze up. And he wants Seth to be afraid, to be regretful of every moment he ever had with Trey, so he puts in every single feeling of sadness and heartbreak, and hopes to God that Seth feels it.

"Don't," he says sharply, angrily. "Don't…don't ever think you can touch me after you…after you touched _him_." Ryan spits out the last word like it's edged with razors and dripping with acidic substances.

Seth takes a step back, and his breathing is becoming more rapid. Ryan wonders if maybe the gravity, the full reality of the situation is finally falling on his pretty little head.

"How the hell could you?" Ryan questions, and he goes on, because he doesn't want to wait for a response and he isn't exactly sure that he could handle one. "My _brother_. You're my best friend, man. You're… God, I've done fucking so much and you…" He shakes his head, stops himself, and he realizes he doesn't know what he wants to say. He doesn't know at all.

"Ryan," Seth says, and the word is panicked. "Ryan, Ryan…he said…he said it wouldn't hurt you."

Ryan nods, the motion quick, so fast his neck pops and he ignores the discomfort. "Right, yeah. No, it's not that I don't think he didn't tell you that Seth…" He pauses for a moment, taking in a little breath. "I'm…I'm sure he told you a lot of things." He thinks Seth winces, and he's not sure why, because he doesn't think his tone is that accusing. It's kind of…flat, twisted, still in the frequency of his aftershock. "But I thought you were… I thought you were smart enough to realize he was lying… How could you…?"

Ryan stops and feels something inside him tighten, something cold that seems to just be getting colder, and his eyes narrow as he starts sliding down to the floor. He hears Seth saying his name, '_Ryan, Ryan_?', but it's not exactly getting through.

"Don't you know me better than that?" he mumbles.

Seth nods his head, and crawls down to his knees, directly in front of Ryan, trying to catch his eyes. "Yes, I do, I do, I mean…I do," he says quickly. "I shouldn't…I don't know why I trusted him, Ryan, I don't, and I… I just didn't know."

"Didn't know that you _fucking_," and he manages to put a lot of malice into that word, "Trey was going to bother me?"

Seth looks down for a moment, as if he's actually trying to think. "Yes," he says. "I mean, I mean, no. I mean…I don't…I don't know what I mean. I just…I thought you would…worry."

Ryan almost laughs. "Worry? Why? 'Cause Trey's a druggie and a liar and bastard and about a million other horrible things? God, Seth, why would I worry about you letting someone like that into your life?"

"He's your brother," Seth murmurs. "You can't… How can you say stuff like that about your brother?"

And that's _it_.

Ryan just can't deal with it, not right now, not anymore. He can't deal with being the good brother, the one who always looks out for everyone. He can't deal with doing the right thing. He can't deal with forgiveness.

God, he can't, he can't, he just can't anymore.

"What the hell do you know about my brother, Seth!" Ryan practically screams. "You've known him for how long? I _grew_ up with him, man. Okay? I saw how he got this way. Do you think it's because he had a tough home life, Seth? Think it's because he grew up around bad people, without a proper father figure to guide him? I grew up the same way, didn't I? And I became a decent human being. Trey _didn't_. And do you have any idea why that is, Seth? God, have you ever even stopped to think about it!" His voice is harsh, and it's accusing, and he just doesn't care anymore, because this whole situation is so ridiculous and so stupid, it's not worth it. It's just not worth it.

Seth is shaking his head, murmuring something, looking like he wants to hold Ryan, looking like he wants to do anything to make Ryan be able to breathe again okay.

"Because he didn't want to," Ryan says, his voice soft and rough. "He saw the way kids who did drugs and stole cars grew up. And he knew what happened to the kids who stayed out of the trouble, the people who might've actually made it. And you know…he never…he never cared. He liked stealing and drinking and hurting people. It was how he got his little… Damn it, Seth, you think you get him and you don't. You just…you just don't. He wasn't _made_ to be like that…he chose it."

Seth sits back, looking like he might actually be soaking up the information, understanding it.

Ryan doesn't know if it will make a difference, and he decides quickly that no, no it won't. Because Seth…Seth slept with Trey, and nothing is going to make that go away. Not if Seth realizes it was a mistake, or breaks it off, or apologizes, because Seth…

Seth belonged to Trey. Seth belonged to Trey first.

No matter if Ryan saw Seth for the first time, no matter if Seth loved Ryan first – and Ryan knew he had, Ryan could stake his life on the fact that Seth loved him once, loved him as more than a best friend and a brother and a life line. None of that was relevant, not anymore, not since the first time Trey kissed Seth, Trey touched Seth.

And, God, it's gonna be so twisted if Ryan still wants Seth after this. Can still somehow not bring himself to stop loving Seth, even as disgusted and betrayed as he is with what Seth has done.

"Do you think…I was with Trey because I felt sorry for him?"

Ryan wants to slam his fist into a wall. "You know what, Seth?" he says, angry. "_Fuck_ you. Fuck you and Trey and this whole damn…ridiculous…stupid thing!"

He starts pushing himself up, ready to storm out of the room, ready to tell Trey to get the hell out of Newport and ready to erase his memories of Seth's very existence. Seth follows him, though, and starts moving in front of Ryan, starts talking and trying to reach out to Ryan, anything to get him to stay, to listen.

"No, Ryan – really," Seth says, hurt and angry and conversational. "I want to know, is that what you think? You think I'm…I'm sleeping with Trey because I felt bad for him? Because I pitied him?" He moves in front of Ryan, just a centimeter closer. "You think I slept with Trey because I wanted to make him _feel better_?"

Ryan is so tempted to just push Seth – to just make Seth fall back into the books and just scream at him, just let out every single thought that doesn't make sense and hurt him somehow. But he doesn't.

He doesn't say anything.

"You know, if that's what you think then – then how do you know it wasn't just Trey? God, maybe I was fucking Luke too! Maybe Oliver, or Donny, or Theresa – Gosh…maybe I was just a regular fuck-for-pity machine!"

Ryan glares, and he manages his coldest voice, and it's possibly the cruelest thing he's ever said. "Wouldn't doubt it."

He can tell Seth is hurting now.

Seth is feeling guilty, Seth is wanting to take it back, Seth is wishing that Ryan didn't know, Seth is getting flooded with all these things he's never understood how to handle, Seth is trying and failing to think of anything to say.

Ryan puts his hands on Seth's shoulders – warm, warm, but Trey touched them first and he just _can't_ want those eyes to shatter for him anymore and for those lips to open for him anymore or for those words to be directed at him anymore, because he can't put himself through that, he can't, and he won't let himself, and he just can't seem to stop his fingertips from wanting to wrap around Seth's shoulders and pull that body closer anyway – and pushes Seth, just a little, getting the body out of his way.

Ryan puts his hand on the door knob and turns, and he has to make himself walk out of here.

"I'm…" he begins, and his heart is beating faster than it should, and his eyes are stinging with all sorts of salt and wet and tingles that are not tears, not tears, he just can't let them or afford for them to be tears. "Seth, I'm not sure that everything is okay between us." His eyes are hooded, looking down to the ground, and he doesn't want to say anything else, but he knows he needs to. He knows that he has to make Seth understand that this changes them, forever, for always.

Seth is just standing there, not three feet away from him, starring at him with eyes that he wants to forgive, but won't let himself.

Because right now, stupid little wishes, stupid little childish fantasies of things he thinks might make his life easier, being selfish or cocky or not looking out for other people, are not worth it. Being selfish would mean letting himself forget that there was such a thing as pain, would mean closing his eyes and leaning forward and kissing Seth. Being cruel and being careless would mean grabbing Seth by the arms and pressing him against the wall and shoving his hand inside Seth's zipper. Being heartless would mean letting Seth think that apologizes and fake-tender love would make everything okay. Being all these things that he never was would mean allowing Seth to feel safe for a little bit, would mean trying to find someway to make this blow back in Trey's face.

Yeah, right now, Ryan knows that doing the right thing will, in the long run, save him from breaking himself, letting himself be dragged down by things like a brother who he would have – until maybe forty five minutes ago – given anything to have see him as a brother to, and by a boy who he would – and maybe if he wasn't as weak as he's always been told he was, this could be 'would have'; this would be past tense – give anything to have see him as anything _but_ a brother.

"I'm sorry," Seth says, forgetting that he too is hurt, is caught in the crossfire, the aftermath of something he caused. "Ryan, just don't – don't leave, yet." Seth is saying this, Seth is asking him to stay, because Seth… God, Ryan doesn't even know.

Seth is sorry, Ryan knows that. Ryan knows that Seth really didn't want to hurt him.

But it doesn't change the fact that he did.

No matter how many times Seth says 'I'm sorry' in that little broken, pleading voice of his, it's not going to change the fact that he let _Trey_ touch him; that he touched Trey, too.

"Things aren't going to be okay between us for a long time, Seth," Ryan tells him, in the most neutral voice he can muster. "And I just, I just think you should be aware that…that I kind of hate you right now."

Oh, and Ryan can't believe he just said that. Ryan doesn't know if it's even true, but he thinks he might be.

Thin lines, and all that.

"No, Ryan please – " Seth says, and Ryan really isn't sure if Seth can deal with this.

"You need to…you need to not be around me, for a while, okay? I just need to not see you."

"_Ryan_…"

"I also…kind of want to hurt you, right now. I just – How could you feel if I...?" Ryan stops himself. "No. No, Seth, this isn't…this isn't gonna get better. I thought I knew you better than to think… I thought you were better."

"Better than Trey, you mean?"

Ryan doesn't know how the question is spoken; if Seth's offended or hurt or sad or empty or what. And it doesn't matter.

It doesn't change his answer.

He walks out of the room, and shuts the door behind him. Seth just opens it again, and starts talking, pleading for Ryan to come back. He's not moving, not leaving his room, so Ryan just keeps on walking.

Ryan thought – Ryan _knew_ - that Seth was better than Trey, better than him, better than the life they stood for.

And now he's thinking, maybe not. Maybe Seth wasn't better – maybe Seth was just different. Damaged in a way he and Trey weren't.

It's funny, really, because Ryan thinks that maybe he and Seth are on the same level – just perfect for each other. And now, well, that's absolutely hilarious. Because it was the only thing that kept Ryan from Seth. The only thing that stopped Ryan from reaching out to smooth those curls, only thing that stopped him from giving in when those bland brown eyes were on him with a look practically screaming adoration and affection; the fact that Seth was too good, the fact that Ryan would just hurt him.

And now, well, that's all cleared up – Seth was never too good, never fragile, just twisted at a different angle, bleeding in different places.

And now Ryan gets it, he does; he understands it all perfectly, now that Seth has moved on and gotten over him and sees him as a hero, someone he wants to admire and idolize, not as someone he wants to hold and love and touch.

Ryan doesn't wish to be selfish, or empathetic, or stereotypical, or unkind.

Ryan just wishes he learned to see things that were right in front of him.

He just wishes he weren't blind.


End file.
